With a Whimper
by lynne z
Summary: This is how the world ends. Set in my Being Human verse with characters from Torchwood. WIP. Please R&R.
1. Prologue

Prologue

These are the Doctor's least favorite days. The ones where he's stuck in his lab slash office until late in the evening filling out the paperwork he's left till the end of the month. Rose insists if he did it as it came in it wouldn't be an issue, and while she's right, he still can't bring himself to do it sooner. He signs his name that's not his name at least forty times before he stuffs it all into an envelope to be sent to the London branch. He heads home then, knowing he's missed the chance for dinner together.

When he walks into their home he is greeted with the fading smell of garlic and basil and knows it was a spaghetti night. He walks through the nice dining room, with the good china, neither of which are ever really used, and then into the kitchen. Rose is over the stove storing leftovers in loose fitting pajama bottoms and one of his white v-neck t-shirts. He hovers in the doorway and watches her. She has told him once, after a neighborhood barbecue, how the other wives are all jealous with the way he still looks at her, still seeks her out in a crowd, even after ten years of domestics. He thinks if their husbands had a whole universe separating them for three years and the guilt of the sacrifices made in order for them to be here, then they might be more appreciative.

"You just going to stand there staring?" Rose asks, her eyes never leaving her task.

"I'll have you know, I was admiring, not staring."

She hums and smiles, but doesn't look over at him as she pops the lid onto the Tupperware. He pushes off the door and then takes her hands before maneuvering her arms around his waist. His arms lock around her as he presses his mouth to hers. Her lips are welcoming and warm, like the comfort of an old friend. But her tongue is like velvet, skating past his lips to send a jolt down his spine.

"Daddy!" is exclaimed followed by the patter of little bare feet against the tile floor. Then a little fist grips at his trousers along with another exclamation of "daddy."

"Do you hear something?" He asks Rose, who just shrugs with a smile playing on her lips. "I swear I must be hearing things."

Little girl giggles fill the kitchen around another call for "daddy." He pouts his lips, squints his eyes across the ceiling, all while feeling the tug of a tiny fist.

"And I think there's something growing on my leg."

"Daddy!"

He looks down at Clara, his little girl then. She stares up at him with a smile like Rose's and big eyes like his.

"Who is this daddy person?"

"You."

"Me? And your quite sure about this, then?" He asks and then watches her head bob up and down. "Well, I guess if the shoe fits."

He backs up from Rose and swings Clara up into his arms. She's nearly five now with long brown hair and thoughtful eyes that seem so much older than they should. She grins, linking her arms around his neck, as he kisses her temple. He catches Rose staring at him with one of his favorite looks. He first saw it after Clara was born, all soft and grateful and full of awe. It clearly says she wouldn't trade this for anything. Neither would he.

"So. Did you and mummy have a good afternoon?"

"Yep," Clara says, playing the lapel of his jacket.

"And what did you do?"

"Went to the park. And the store. And met Jackson."

"Jackson?"

"That single bloke who moved in across the street," Rose says.

"Single, eh? Well, don't go getting any ideas Rose Tyler."

"A girl's got to be mindful of her options."

She glances at him with a smirk and he smiles back as he shifts Clara's weight to one arm. He pulls Rose into his free side and kisses her chastely on the lips. It's something they can joke about now because he finally knows, _believes_, she's never going to leave him. And not just because he looks like a man she loved, but because he is the man she loves. The one she promised forever to years ago.

Rose leans her head on his shoulder, one of her arms snug across his back, and places her free hand on Clara's tummy. He loves this. This slow path, that slips away minute by minute and this family that makes it all worth it. It's precious and fragile and painfully beautiful.

"It's getting close to someone's bedtime," Rose says.

"Ah, yes, so it is," the Doctor says, looking at Clara.

"Will you tell me a story?"

"Don't I always?"

"Yeah."

"Right then, so what story would you like tonight?"

His arm slips away from Rose and then bounces Clara on his arm as he heads to the stairs.

"Doctor Donna," Clara says.

"Oh, one of my very favorites. You know, next to you and your mum, your aunt Donna was one of my very favorite people. Brilliant, really."

He goes up the stairs as he speaks and then places Clara on her feet at the top of the stairs. He tells her to go on to the loo to brush her teeth, while he changes into a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a white T-shirt.

They meet in Clara's little purple bed like they do every night around 8:30 and she snuggles into his side. Sometimes he reads from a book, but others he tells her stories of a man in a blue box, albeit slightly edited. Either way, there are usually giggles from Clara at the voices and gestures he makes or when he suddenly tickles her side at a heighten moment of suspense.

He spots Rose in the doorway a little after nine, like normal, to usher Clara to actually go to sleep. She comes and sits next to his hip. Her arm drapes across his torso and brushes Clara's hair behind her ear. The fierceness with which she looks at her daughter does things to him he didn't think possible. This whole having a family is so different as a (well, mostly) human. The attachment he feels to them is primal and bloody terrifying.

"Time to go to sleep, love," Rose says.

"Can we finish the story?" Clara asks.

"Oh, we'll finish tomorrow. Be something to look forward to," he says giving her a squeeze.

He slips off the bed, while they take their turns tucking the blankets around her and kissing her forehead good night. He shuts the light off so only the soft twinkling of the stars he installed in the ceiling give a dim light, and then shuts the door behind them.

"I left some food on the stove for you. I'm going to read for a bit," Rose says.

"Thanks. I'll be back up soon."

He takes his time eating and reading through the paper on the kitchen table. It's still frustrating having to rely on papers and books to tell him the history and happenings of this world. Especially since he can still feel the turn of it and the time moving like clockwork in his head.

When he goes up to bed Rose is under the covers with a trashy spy novel between her fingers. He doesn't know why she likes them and he doubts they could compare to their own adventures in the TARDIS and here with Torchwood and an active rift.

"Did you get all your forms done?" She asks, not looking up from the page she's on.

"I always get them done."

"Just at the eleventh hour."

"Well, I figure eventually Pete's got to take the hint and get how rubbish it is I have to do them at all."

"And how long have you been running with that theory?"

"Uh, well, a few years, give or take."

"So, going well then?"

"Well enough."

He plops down beside her, head propped up on his hand as his eyes scan over the page of her book. He snorts.

"I don't think that position's even possible," he says. "Nor, comfortable. Plus libel to get splinters in unseemly places."

"Shut up."

"Oh, come on. Why read this rubbish when we could...you know..."

He nuzzles her neck and tastes the sensitive spot just below her ear. His hand sneakily snakes up to hers and then tosses the book to the floor.

"You just made me lose my place."

"You were on 106."

He mutters it absently as his mouth moves to hers and his hand slips under shirt. He smiles at the familiar hum from the back of her throat and he knows he's won her over. She tugs his shirt over this head and it's just a matter of time before her knickers are pulled down her legs and his bottoms are tossed to the floor.

Then he's braced on his forearms, fingers brushing her temples. Her knees are hooked over his hips, while the thin cotton of her night shirt rubs against his chest. Their noses bump occasionally or his mouth skids across hers. Her lips part and her neck arcs in that way that tells him she's close. Their eyes meet and she smiles through the haze of need and lust and _just like that._ She's exquisite like this, all flushed, fingers clutching at his waist, hips erratic in the search for more friction.

He shifts to change the angle and that's when all the air goes gushing out of his lungs and this crushing fear settles on his back like a boulder. He gasps, falters, while his face falls into the crook of her neck.

"Don't stop," she says, her lips against his ear.

He can't speak, can't move, except for the breath coming out in short, rapid puffs. Its like someone's hand is clasped over his mouth and nose, blocking his cries for help. He feels her fingers thread through his hair and give a gentle tug. He resists and feels her shift, craning her neck maybe.

"Doctor?" She asks and tugs a little harder. "Doctor, what's wrong?"

He lets her pull his head up and her face twists with worry. He can imagine the glassy overwhelmed look he must have as her fingers slip from his hair down to his cheek.

"What is it?" She asks. "Doctor?"

He squeezes his eyes shut and leans into her hand. He narrows his focus to the feel of her thumb sweeping against his cheekbone. He takes in deep breaths lulling away the panic that has overtaken his mind.

"Doctor, please, you're scaring me."

His eyes flash open with a shudder because now the panic is really his. It surges up his spine as he realizes what he has just felt.

"Clara."

He frantically stumbles and half crawls out of bed. He drags on his flannel pajama bottoms mid step toward the door, while Rose does the same and calls after him. He hears the increasing panic in her voice and he has never wanted to be more wrong in his life.

He rushes the short distance to Clara's room with Rose on his heels and then swings her door open. They both stop still. His single heartbeat pumps faster than he thinks should be possible and he thinks he can hear Rose's even over the sound of his own. Clara's blanket is tossed down to the end of the bed and the little plush hippo she hugs as she sleeps lies discarded on the floor.

They finally move as they call her name and throw open her closet. They check the bathroom, the hall closet, then the spare bedroom and find them all empty. They bound down the stairs checking every hiding place between the sitting room and kitchen before heading to the finished basement.

"Clara, you answer me right now," Rose calls out as they jog down the basement stairs.

It's as empty as the rest of the house. He watches Rose clasp her hand over her mouth and then heave in a breath. Her hand falls to her chest as she sucks in air with a wheeze. Her breaths are short, halted, and high pitched. The Doctor moves to her and pulls her down so they're both sitting on the edge of the sofa. Her head falls between her knees while he rubs her back and tries to keep his own panic down in the pit of his stomach.

"We'll find her. She's still able to call out to me which means she's alive."

"This can't...how..."

She tries to stammer out her thought as she looks up at him. Tears stream down her face and he feels his own leaking out of his eyes. He swallows and clears his throat.

"You call 999 and I'll get hold of Pete and Torchwood."

She nods and they move, running back up the stairs to the kitchen. He keeps his eyes on her as they separate. She wipes her eyes as she picks up her mobile from the kitchen counter. He does the same and tries to focus on that yes she has to be alive and not on the fear overwhelming his little girl.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

When Gwen pulls up to the Noble's house there are already uniform cars and investigation vans coloring the nice, normally quiet neighborhood. A tent has been set up on the front lawn a sort of mobile command center with maps of the neighborhood and what cameras might be at their disposal. Neighbors have started to gather in dressing gowns and slippers, all of who are being shushed and ordered back to their houses by officers. There's one couple and a single man who stay put, but back.

She sucks in a breath as she reaches for the door handle and tries to ignore the swirling mass in her stomach. Two weeks in this new position running Major Inquiries and her first missing child case. A missing child related to Pete Tyler no less. She thinks of Anwen, her own daughter, the same age as the Noble girl, snuggled down safely in her bed and Rhys just across the hall dead to the world, softly snoring. She shakes her head and steels fear face, hoping she can fool the officers into believing she's as tough as everyone says.

She makes her way up the walkway flashing her credentials and is ushered into the foyer of a warm, colorful house with artwork and knickknacks and a smiling family photo. She's directed upstairs to the little girl's bedroom. The walls are pale blue, but the ceiling is pitch black with constellations strewn across it and a little twin bed with purple bedding sits in the center.

Her lead Detective Sargent, Rex Matheson, is already there observing the SOCO officers as they dust for prints. The American has his hands on his hips and a surly expression that she's come accustomed to. He was hired a few months back, after following his Welsh wife home to Cardiff, though while a good cop, Gwen has yet to figure out what she sees in him. When he notices her, she's greeted with a terse nod and pursed lips.

"So, how's it looking?" Gwen asks.

"No signs of a break in. All doors were locked and that window is still locked from the inside."

Gwen puffs air out through her mouth because that's not what she wants to hear. She can practically see _the husband_ flash across Rex's irises and she purses her lips in return, silently asking to not jump to conclusions.

"Just wait till you meet him," Rex says.

"And lets not forget she's the granddaughter of one of the wealthiest men in Britain. Prime target for a ransom. Anything else?"

"Just some unidentified grey power at the foot of the bed. SOCO Fraizer is taking it down to the lab."

She nods. She heads back downstairs and is directed to the right toward the sitting room painted a calming mint green. On the far love seat sit the Nobles. They're thigh to thigh and their hands are clasped so tightly together it looks like their knuckles are turning white. They're both slightly hunched over. His eyes are far away, staring at nothing in particular, and she nibbles at her free thumb nail.

"I'm Detective Inspector Cooper-Williams. I'll be leading the investigation to find your daughter."

They glance up at her with startled and red rimmed eyes. They flash looks at each other as if suddenly remembering why they're all here. They quickly turn their attention back to her, while she sits across from them on the coffee table in front of them.

"I'm Rose. This is the Doctor."

Gwen blinks and really looks at them. _The Doctor? _He's older than her maybe by ten years or so and she isn't sure if he's near tears or murderous by the stony, yet glassy look in his eye. Rose just looks numb, like she couldn't cry anymore if she tried.

"The Doctor?"

"It's a nickname. Legally it's James," he says in a tone that clearly says we don't have bloody time for this.

Gwen nods and is barely able to stop the scrutinizing squint of her eyes. She quickly tosses her hair and then clasps her hands in front of her. She leans forward and begins to speak.

"I'm very sorry to have to meet under these circumstances, but we will do everything we can to figure out what happened to your daughter. The pictures you gave the first officers should be broadcast any minute and we have alerts out from here to London. Now, I need you to talk me through what you and Clara did today."

"I picked her up from school around three," Rose says.

"Is that usual?"

"Yeah, I mean one of us usually does. Depending on what...projects we have."

"And then?"

"Then I took her over to the park for a bit. Then the store and then we came home."

"Did you notice anyone out of place? Someone you didn't even give a second thought to?"

"No."

"You're positive?"

"Yes. I would've noticed if someone was following us."

She says it with a bite that makes Gwen sit back and Rose stares at her more like a cop than a bereaved mother. Gwen squints at the heiress and her husband. They do their best to stay out of the public eye by all accounts, but there's still assumptions about the little rich girl hidden off at a boarding school half her life only to mysteriously appear along with the sudden recovery of her mother. Gwen's eyes catch the movement as the Doctor dislodges his fingers from hers and wraps his arm around her shoulders. He kisses her temple and swallows. Her eyes water over and she leans move heavily against the Doctor.

"I don't mean to offend you. I just need to know everything that happened."

A wet sound escapes Rose's lips and Gwen notices tears trailing down the Doctor's face too. Gwen sees a flash of her and Rhys being on the receiving end of this, wondering if they would be as comforting to each other. But then Rose scrubs her palms against her face and then looks back at Gwen.

"We came home...about 5:30 and made dinner. Ate. She...she went up to her room to play until he got home."

"What time was that?"

"Around eight," the Doctor says.

"It's that normal?"

"No. I had end of month paperwork I was catching up on."

"Can someone at your job confirm that?"

"Uh, suppose the security guard on duty can."

"Then what was the rest of the night like?"

"Uh, I read Clara a story then went downstairs to eat, while Rose went to bed to read. That was a little after nine. And I came up to bed around eleven, I guess."

"Yeah," Rose confirms. "Then we...spent some time together and, um..."

Rose turns to look at him and she notices a slight jump of her brow, asking some silent question. The Doctor nods his head absently and then looks over at Gwen.

"I went to check in on her before going to sleep and she was gone. Just gone," the Doctor says.

"Did you hear anything?"

They both shake their heads.

"And do your normally check in on her before you go to bed?"

"Uh. I don't know. I don't guess it's regular, but not unheard of," the Doctor says.

"What made you check in on her tonight?"

He sucks air through his nose and lets it out just as quickly as he tilts his head back. He looks down his nose at her quite literally.

"I really don't know. I just did."

Gwen swallows and shifts at how easily the lie rolls off his tongue. And she's sure it's a lie with the way he's looking at her like he's daring her to call him on it, but she doesn't. She'll save it for a bigger lie if she needs to. She watches Rose look up at him and then lay her head on his shoulder. Gwen wants to believe in how much they appear to love each other, but there's something in silent communication that passes between them that makes the hair at her neck stand on end.

"You both work for Vitex, correct?" Gwen asks.

"Yes," Rose says. "I'm the operations manager and he's the lead chemist here at the Cardiff Distribution Center."

"Does anyone else have access to the house?"

"My parents. And um, the Williams' across the street. Amy, she'll pick up Clara if we can't get away from work."

"I need you both to take some time and think about anyone who might have a reason to hurt you. Any employees who may have been fired, business associates, friends you've had a falling out with. Okay?"

They look at each other and he swallows, while her mouth parts like she's about to speak, but then her jaw snaps shut. Then they just nod and Gwen leaves them there after one last appraising look. She trots back up the stairs to find Rex leaning in the doorway of the Nobles' bedroom. She peers in beside him and takes in the tangled blankets like someone struggled with them in a hurry.

"I want you to take lead at the command post. And get someone to find every bit of information you can on the two of them and report back to me. And take a look into Vitex while you're at it."

"Is that all?"

She glares while he smirks and jogs down the stairs. She tries to reconcile this couple so obviously in love with whatever it is they aren't telling her. She mentally scrolls through the statistics and theories of how parents lash out at each other, pull apart. _Unless she's covering for him. Or him for her_, she thinks. _An accident maybe?_

She hears some commotion and a man yelling from outside along with one of her officers. She moves to the top of the stairs and sees a uniformed officer coming toward her.

"Ma'am, Pete Tyler's here. He's asking to be let through."

She sighs but then nods to let him through. _Shit._


End file.
